


The Moments in Between

by travellinghopefully



Series: The Moments in Between [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinghopefully/pseuds/travellinghopefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partly from someone's headcanon musings on tumblr, partly a drabble antidote (go on you know you want to prompt me more) and just because, who doesn't like the occasional smut....</p><p>Shockingly - no angst!!!</p><p>Planning 5 more parts, only have the barest outline of one though - will gladly read anyone's wishlist, the aim is all smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moments in Between

Absolutely, definitely, no danger, just an alien market to browse through.

Which is how they had found themselves in what could only be described as a cupboard. Clara was not dressed for running, she had selected an outfit with care, something for a CALM DAY! (She did not shout.) Her strappy sandals were probably ruined and really, nothing she wore was suited to running.

The Doctor gestured the need for silence, his finger against his lips. The space really was extremely limited, crowding them against each other. The day might have possibilities.

Clara made up her mind, the day was not going to be completely wasted. She clasped the Doctor’s hand in hers and brought it to her mouth, knowing that he couldn’t escape. His eyes met hers, and she smirked. She placed a soft kiss against his palm – his fingers curled slightly, brushing against her cheek. She allowed the very tip of her tongue to trace out a word in Galifreyan he had just taught her. She raised her eyes again and watched him blush. With sufficient incentive she was a very disciplined student of linguistics.

Their breath already sounded loud in their ears and the Doctor stilled her for a moment as footsteps seemed to be approaching, paused, a hurried half heard conversation and the footsteps raced away. Making use of the distraction, Clara sucked on the Doctor’s finger, swirling her tongue round it, drawing it into her mouth, grazing it with her teeth, until he slumped against her shoulder, desperately trying to stifle his shameless moan. Clara had been thrilled when she found out just how sensitive to touch he was – there was almost nothing she couldn’t do, nowhere she couldn’t touch him, without rendering him helpless. He often maintained a valiant attempt to scowl and flap and recoil, but she knew he craved her just as much as she did him. This opportunity when he couldn’t pretend to be busy, or that they should be somewhere else, or there was something that needed tinkering with, it was an opportunity too good to miss and she did so enjoy being in control. 

The Doctor wasn’t allowing everything to go her own way, he was nuzzling the spot just below her ear, his breath ghosting hot down the column of her neck, his lips pausing to press butterfly kisses and then to lick and carefully bite – it was her turn to try to suppress a moan that bubbled up from inside her. She felt the whisper of his mind against hers and the word “mine” as his teeth marked her flesh. She didn’t hesitate in pressing herself more closely against him.

He was as ever cool under her touch, but part of him was compellingly warm. She felt her responding wetness and caught the faintest hint of a smirk from him – oh he knew, he knew what he did to her. This was fun, but really, not enough room.

Catching both Clara’s wrist in one strong hand, he pinned them above her head, against the rough wall. He focused his attention on kissing her, soft nibbles against the corner of her mouth – her earlobe between his lips, between his teeth, sucking and biting. Softly, kisses across her brow, down her nose, until she couldn’t contain the squeak of protest, wriggling against him, attempting to remove her hands from his grasp. “Shhhh” the whisper in her mind. She pushed back with what she wanted, what she needed. She was rewarded with an expressive expletive and her hands were released. One of his hands moved to her hair, the other traced increasingly infuriating patterns down her side. Almost causing her to giggle – now was not the time.

Finally, he was kissing her the way she wanted, his tongue hot in her mouth – the taste of him intoxicating. But, his other hand, nowhere near where she wanted.  
She arched herself against him, rubbing and grinding as wantonly as she could in the constrained space. She moved her hands to him, and he caught them and held them still again, his breath hissing against her.

At long last his hand moved closer, caressing her thigh, moving upwards, his thumb rubbing circles against her. Pushing up the hem of her skirt, bunching the fabric, and then letting it slide between his fingers. She whimpered in frustration and he shushed her again. She wanted to protest, forgetting their surroundings, the reason for their silence, lost in him. His hand rested against the top of her hip, his fingers splayed, restlessly moving against her and she was compelled to rub against him, urging him on, bring his focus back to where she wanted. She allowed herself to forgive him his lack of concentration on this occasion. As her plans for the day had been quite, quite different, not remotely including running, fleeing, hiding breathlessly in a closet, she had dispensed with tights and also decided against underwear. Such a little thing, but it allowed her the thrill of control, awaiting the moments of the Doctor’s surprise.

The Doctor was forgetting their surroundings too, and was whispering increasingly vivid filth against the shell of her ear, his hot breath tickling her, her turn to shush him. Pulling free, she dragged his hand from her hip to where she wanted him, and still he teased her – his fingers moved across to the top of her thigh, just the tip of two fingers brushing against her soft curls – she writhed in frustration and he held her firmly with his free hand. So gentle, she forgot his strength and power, now he expended a fraction of it against her, and held her still.

Her lips were swollen from the kisses, the careful bites he placed into the fullness, the rasp of his stubble as he rubbed his face against her, nuzzling whilst she tried to remember to breath. 

Then, his fingers moved, one, just one circled her clit, the touch nothing more than a suggestion. Just enough for her to curse him, to try to demand more.

She had thought he would be clumsy, awkward, not so much inexperienced, but, really, well, out of practice. He had been a revelation. The first time and every time since. Infuriatingly, damnably patient, the ability to tease her, bring her to the edge, hold her there and drag her crashing over again and again. He could do hard and fast, and memories of other places and other times were almost enough for her here and now. Lost in remembrance she realised that two of his fingers were moving against her, sliding backwards and forwards against her – not hard enough, and not inside her. She pushed down against him and felt his lips curve into a smile against hers. Infuriating man. At the point when she decided that this, this was the moment when she would finally lose her mind, his fingers slid into her. Impossibly slowly, he moved his hand, she clenched against him, willing him on. He dropped his mouth to her throat again, sucking against her pulse. Gods how she wanted his mouth against her, the things his tongue, his lips could do. 

Memory wasn’t enough, the space wasn’t enough, she wanted all of him, everywhere at once. Loosening his grip against her hip, he cradled her head against his chest, his fingers tangling in her hair, softly stroking. Some of the cries she was helplessly making were stifled against him, not all, but she was too far gone to care. Finally his thumb pressed against her and he began to move his hand with the rhythm and urgency that she needed. The words she heard in her mind were her name repeated over and over as softly and reverently as a prayer. ultimately the friction was enough, she felt exquisite heat gathering, pooling, coiling, poised to spill and cascade through her. 

Don’t let him stop, don’t let him stop.

He did, just for a moment, to softly kiss her, to whisper, “come for me.” Her whole body shook, their connection amplifying her pleasure. He held her and murmured soft words, continuing the softest of caresses until she fell against him, helpless with bliss.

They stayed there, the cramped space a temporary paradise. Clara couldn’t tell how much time elapsed, she wasn’t sure if she slept, held secure by her impossible man.

They didn’t quite fall out of the space when they finally left. Thankfully not straight into the arms of their pursuers either. They took time to stretch cramped limbs, attempting to sort out dishevelled clothing, push back wayward hair – giggling like children.  
Clara glanced at the Doctor, his own arousal still entirely evident, she began to apologise, he merely shrugged and smiled. He did however kiss her and then leaned down, his mouth against her ear and whispered one word – “later.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, loved this, tell me, hated it, tell me, really really really loved it, share.
> 
> At some point I will re-learn punctuation, until that time, be patient.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I love you all.


End file.
